Our Bonny Scots Lads

Our bonny Scots lads, in their green tartan plaids.
Their blue-belted bonnets, and feathers sae braw,
Rank'd up on the green were fair to be seen,
But my bonny young laddie was fairest of a'.
His cheeks were as red as the sweet heather-bell.
Or the red western cloud looking down on the snaw.
His lang yellow hair o'er his braid shoulders fell,
And the een o' the lasses were fix'd on him a
My heart sunk wi' wae on the wearifu' day.
When torn frae my bosom they march'd him awa',
He bade me farewell, he cried "O be leel,"
And his red cheeks were wet wi' the tears that did fa.
Ah! Harry, my love, though thou ne'er shouldst return,
Till life's latest hour I thy absence will mourn,
And memory shall fade, like the leaf on the tree,
Ere my heart spare ae thought on anither but thee.